


cynicism isn't wisdom (it's a lazy way to say that you've been burned)

by WhatsATerrarium



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bonding, Developing Friendships, Emotionally Repressed, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsATerrarium/pseuds/WhatsATerrarium
Summary: In which Daniel Jacobi and Isabel Lovelace stumble upon a small obstacle in their plan to take down Goddard Futuristics.Featuring discussions of the implications of Team 'What's Wrong With Handcuffs?', the complete lack of fast food in outer space, and the quality of Jacobi's teen years.
Relationships: Daniel Jacobi & Isabel Lovelace, Referenced Isabel Lovelace/Renée Minkowski
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	cynicism isn't wisdom (it's a lazy way to say that you've been burned)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vapiddreamscape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapiddreamscape/gifts).



> "Cynicism isn't wisdom, it's a lazy way to say that you've been burned  
> It seems, if anything you'd be less certain after everything you ever learned."  
> \--Nana Grizol, 'Cynicism'
> 
> Thanks to Isabel for giving me the chance to write this!

“So, did you bring those files you told me about?”

“I did,” she responds blankly.

“...And are you going to give them to me?” Jacobi’s brow furrows as she looks back at him calmly from where she’s sat, sipping a sprite in the booth seat across from him at the McDonald’s on Pennsylvania Avenue.

“No.”

“...Why?” he asks, trying to hide the light frustration building in his voice.

“Because,  _ Daniel, _ I don’t know you.”

“Come again?”

“I don’t know anything about you. We should have some semblance of trust if we’re going to be doing this.”

“Are you sure? Because to me, it feels like we escaped certain death and saved the entire goddamn world together. I’m no relationship expert, but I’m fairly certain that established at least a little trust between us.”

She gives him a look, a calm, pointed, cut-the-bullshit look.

“Okay, fine,” the forced smile that spreads across his face is ripe with agitation and sarcasm, yet she remains unphased. “My middle name is Kenneth, I like mint chip ice cream, and in the tenth grade, I dyed my hair blue. Look, see? We’re best friends now,  _ Isabel. _ Can we just get this meeting over with?”

“No,” she frowns. “We went through all that together, and we’re  _ still _ putting up with this shit together, and yet you still insist on being a distant little shit who thinks he’s too cool to spend time with the only people in the world who understand what he’s going through.” She punctuates her sentence with a bite of her burger. “So, today is a get-to-know-you day. And  _ maybe,  _ if there’s time at the end, we can look through these files. Got it?”

“Don’t you want to finally be done with this?” he asks her through gritted teeth. “What happened to a month ago, when you were just dying to dive right into this case and take these bastards down with me? Don’t you want to just have Goddard  _ out of our lives?” _

“Jacobi, look who you’re fucking talking t—”

“Why do we have to be friends, then? Because last I checked, we’re all just painful fucking reminders for each other.”

“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re the only thing we have left. We’re all still living in Dom and Renée’s house because we have nowhere else to go. We all eat dinner together because we don’t have anyone else to eat with. We’re going up against Goddard together because  _ there’s no one else on our side. _ Just because we got out of there doesn’t mean that we’re not still a team.”   
  
“News flash, I’m not on your team. I’m  _ collaborating _ with your team, sure. And yeah, maybe I’m crashing with your team too. But don’t mistake my wanting Goddard to rot just as much as you do, or my not having anywhere to go for me wanting to be best buds with you and Team ‘What’s Wrong With Handcuffs?’, which, by the way, makes you sound like kinksters out of context.”

“Sounds like you’re projecting to me, but okay,” she snorts under her breath.

“Shut up,” he bites back defensively as she resituates herself and tries to get back on topic.

“You know what? Fine. If you can look me in the eye, tell me you genuinely want to be alone, and  _ mean it,  _ then I’ll  _ leave you alone.” _

He gives her a pained, annoyed smile, and stares into her eyes. “I. Want. To be. Alone.”

“Lies,” she responds plainly.

He grits his teeth, he bears his stubborn expression, seemingly determined to repeat it until he wears her down. “I want to be alone.”

“I don’t believe you,” she hums, leaning forward.

“I  _ want _ to be alone.”

“There is a lot of smoke coming from your pants right now,” she responds in a false-sweet tone.   
  


“Why are you not listening to me?” he shoots back, matching her cadence but taking his pitch even higher.

“Because you don’t mean it.”

“You don’t know what I mean.”

They both continue to speak in higher and higher octaves as they argue, eventually reaching the point where they can barely hear each other.

“You don’t know shit about me,” he spits, his voice close to sounding like a whistle.

“That’s. The. Problem.” Only dogs can hear her response.

“Yeah, well too bad, cause that’s how I want to keep it.” He returns to his normal tone so quickly that it somehow shatters a layer of tension like glass.

_ “Why?” _

He pauses for a second. He leans forward and plucks one of her french fries from out in front of her before comfortably falling against the padded back of the booth seat. “Did you know McDonald’s is the largest fast food chain on Earth?”

“Changing the subject?”

“No,” he frowns, “explaining.”   
  
“So what,” she rolls her eyes, taking a quick bite of her burger before continuing. “You’re just so eager to pander to our capitalist overlords?”

“There’s a McDonald’s pretty much everywhere in the world. There’s one everywhere I’ve been, at least. And I’ve been to a lot of places.” He pauses, cramming several french fries into his mouth before continuing to speak as he chews. “You’re a military brat too, right? Tell me, ever lived somewhere without a McDonald’s?”

“Yes,” she deadpans, “Outer space. For six years.”

“Anywhere on  _ Earth?” _ It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he responds to her question with that characteristic snark she’ll never grow tired of.

Just kidding. She’s already tired.

“No,” she concedes, “I haven’t.”

“Exactly,” he says exasperatedly, making eye contact with her more directly than he has this whole time. “When you live everywhere you need constants. There is no McDonald’s in space.”

“So what do you do then?”

“You find new constants,” he shrugs, letting his eyes drift bitterly back out the window. “And you don’t make the mistake of making them people, because sometimes, they don’t come back from space. Or better yet, you make the smart decision, and you close yourself off, and you stay away from people, and you eat your McDonald’s. Maybe you should try it.”

...and the other shoe just dropped.

  
Funnily enough, she still doesn’t know how to respond to it. “I’m… I’m sorry, Jacobi. Losing people…  _ sucks,  _ but… you have people to talk about it with. You get that, right?”

“I don’t  _ want _ to talk,” he practically grunts, trying, not to much success, to make his voice sound more stoic than pathetic.

“Oh please,” she retorts, blank-faced. “You never shut up.”

He almost snorts a little at the sudden change of mood and the unexpected joke. He glances down at his food as he holds back a chuckled and just for that second, he somehow feels a flash of vulnerability stronger than any that he had felt during this conversation.

“I went through a lot too, Jacobi. I watched people die.  _ I  _ died. And yeah, maybe I’m shitty at talking through things sometimes too, but that’s why we need people to hold each other accountable. That’s why we still need friends. Don’t tell me you’re just going to wander the world on your own with  _ McDonald’s  _ as your only steadfast companion.”

“Why not? It’s what I did in high school,” he shoots back sardonically.

“And exactly how fun was your teenage experience?”

“I’ll have you know, I blew up a  _ lot _ of things as a teenager.”   
  
“That does  _ not _ answer my question,” she responds with a slight smile.

He gives a slight chuckle and glances at her for a second, looking her up and down as though he’s contemplating pretty much every minute detail of her existence. “If it’ll get you to show me those files and get this show on the road, then fine. We can be friends.”

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes. It was.”

“Was it really?” she rolls her eyes, though there’s still a hint of curiosity in her tone.

“Yes, actually. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a social butterfly.”

  
“Well then, I’m so touched by your effort, I’m giving you the first choice of conversation topic. So what do you want to talk about? Something not Goddard related.”   
  
“Minkowski.”   
  
“What about her?”   
  
“You got to be annoying about my personal life, it’s only fair I return the favor.”

She shifts in her seat and tries to make it seem inconspicuous, though she’s not sure how successful she is. “You’re still going to need to be more specific,” she informs him despite knowing  _ exactly _ what he’s trying to bring up.   
  
“What the hell is going on there?”

If they’re going to have to be friends, he can at least enjoy the fun that accompanies watching a ‘good friend’ squirm as they’re given the third degree about their love life. God knows Alana used to do it to him all the time.

“I…” she takes another sip of her drink before exhaling. “God, I really don’t know. I… she’s married. When we were up there, I thought maybe… I don’t know.”

“Are you going to… I don’t know, talk to her about it?”

“Maybe?” She shrugs. “I don’t know, I don’t want to… spring this on her all at once. I mean, she  _ just _ got back to her husband. I don’t know, if they’re both okay with it then… maybe I’ll… ask her out, or whatever.”

_ “Oh,” _ he responds, eyes widening a little. “So you know what you want.”

“Yeah. I do. I’ve had,” she pauses for a swig of soda and a slight chuckle. “...a  _ lot _ of time to think about what I want, Jacobi.”

“And what exactly does that entail?”

She hums to herself a little. “I want a house. One big enough to store the consciousness of an artificial superintelligence and with enough rooms for my dysfunctional family of weirdos. I want a girl to hold at night, whether or not I have to share her. I want to learn to bake bread, I want to travel the world, I want to meet the families of the people who died up there with me and tell them what happened, and I want to get to know you, Daniel Jacobi. I’ve been trying to just…  _ survive _ for so long. I want to live my life. I want to put this shit behind me, and so do the others, but that doesn’t mean we can just abandon each other or that we would  _ want to. _ Because, tough luck, Jacobi, we’ve all got new constants now, whether we like it or not. There’s no way we’re getting rid of each other. We’ve all been through and seen too much shit for that to be an option.” She smirks and adds, like it’s an afterthought. “But I do still want to tear Goddard down. Brick by brick, file by file.”

With that, she pulls several manila folders out of the bag she’d kept at her side and slid them across the table.

“I just want to know you’ll still be with us in the ruins.”

Daniel Jacobi isn’t perfect. Not by any means.

He’s not sure he’s ever been one of the bleedin’ good guys. Not really. Then again, it’s not like he’s ever been convinced they wanted him. He’s detached himself so far from the world and from his sense of morality that it almost feels like even direct attempts at pulling him back are only distant shouts.

Then again, for most his life, those shouts have been muffled by the sounds of explosions, of the devices crafted by his own two hands to take lives and ruin structures. The voices trying to guide him were spoken over by orders and terrible stories and threats of violence hinted at through drawn-out and frankly annoying conversations about alcohol.

The world around him has been being drowned out by now-retired habits and now-dead people for so long that now that he can hear it, it’s overwhelming.

But he  _ can _ hear it now. And maybe--  _ maybe-- _ he might finally be ready to listen.

He takes the file from her, he smiles just a little, and takes a sip from his drink. “As long as you keep buying dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> So a big reason why I don't usually leave comments is that it doesn’t feel like a conversation, it feels too definite. So, as opposed to asking you to leave comments (which I do still very much appreciate and will respond to if that’s your thing), I’m going to let you know how to contact me!
> 
> Instagram: whats_a_terrarium  
> Discord: whats_a_terrarium#0251  
> Tumblr: whats-a-terrarium  
> Twitter: whatsaterrarium
> 
> If you have any thoughts, ideas, constructive criticism, or just want to ramble, never hesitate! :)


End file.
